beyond the grid - max verstappen

chapter twenty nine

sorry when i reread this chapter i really hated it so ive made some changes and made it a bit longer. let me know your thoughts. 

I made my way to the kitchen to find max sitting on the lounge, bouncing his knee with this laptop sat in front of him. he looks tired and frustrated with whatever was happening on the screen. whatever it was, had kept him from sleep. he rubbed his hands over his face, pushing his hair back making it look really messy.

this is not what I needed right now. or at all. I had planned to make a cup of tea and sit on the lounge watching narcos till the sun was actually up. thoughts of running my hands through his dishevelled hair filled my mind and I knew I wouldn't be able to focus on the show.

I made my way around the kitchen making myself a cup of English breakfast tea without him noticing my presence. leaning on the kitchen counter, I watched him closely as he continued to type away at the computer, obviously angry about something. without a second thought I grabbed my mug and sat down on the lounge next to him. he jumped slightly at my presence. I watched as he typed furiously back at his pr manager.

"you know what your problem is?" I muttered before taking a sip of my tea.

"I haven't eve-" he turned to me attempting to plea his case

"no im going to tell you what your problem is." I sat my tea down in my lap crossing one leg up so I could face him. "youre dutch" he stared at me stunned as if I had just punched him "this issue is with the uk media? well your lack of pleasantries in the media can be jarring for a nation that says sorry more than eight times a day. they're fond of empty pleasantries. they're far more polite but it doesn't mean they actually mean it and that's something you have to learn to do. not every situation is going to be helped with your brutally honest thoughts on it."

"that doesn't make sense" he groaned leaning back against the lounge.

"en boca cerrada no entran moscas. in the closed mouth, flies do not enter. don't apologise just don't make them think youre a cunt" i grabbed the laptop off of his lap before typing a response to his media manager.

'I don't need to be doing anything to contradict what I have said in that interview. I have always been raised to be an honest person and that is important to me. people don't have to like that. is there a way to potentially show more behind the scenes footage during the weekend to show who I am behind the track and how the general media perceives me to be. mclaren has done a lot of work to build the relationship between lando and daniel with youtube challenges which the fans have responded well to, similar to what I had done with daniel previously too. we could to a true or false challenge?'

max furrowed his eyebrows watching me type away muttering "I don't need your help" under his breath. when I handed the laptop back he pulled his lips into a straight line whilst he read over what I had typed.

"I dont need you to get involved" his tone was full of frustration but a small smirk formed on my face as he pressed send.

"you're lucky im even gracing you with my ideas" I took another sip of my tea before grabbing the remote to return to my plans for the rest of the night.

"why are you even awake its three am?" he finally sat his laptop on the coffee table before settling more comfortably on the lounge next to me.

"couldn't sleep" I shrugged "I would ask you the same but I see your team is nearing incompetent and don't respect your personal time."

"you don't do the same to lando?"

"not at all I plan everything for him, make it into less than five minute presentation with visuals so he pays attention and the whole meeting is done in less than thirty minutes and at a reasonable time of day." I let out a small laugh realising that this is probably a really common thing for him to deal with.